


susurrus

by inkreservoir



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 04:59:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8697685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkreservoir/pseuds/inkreservoir
Summary: V shows up at Jumin's door at some inappropriate time of night to show up at a person's door. After Jumin blinks the sleep out of his eyes, V confesses the real reason he came.





	

When Jumin finds himself woken at sometime-past-midnight-but-before-sunrise and not by his own design, he's cross, until the security guard who'd shaken him awake informs him that V is at his door, the one person the guards are allowed to wake Jumin up for. Rubbing his eyes, he scrambles to his feet, digging his fingers into the mattress to help him gain his balance, then he’s at the front door, where V has already stepped inside.

“V…?” Jumin raises a tired eyebrow, feeling odd at meeting his friend without even brushing his hair or his teeth first. V's face is expressionless and a little blurry, as Jumin’s eyes haven't yet quite adjusted to the light. “Are you all right?”

V musters an unconvincing nod, and Jumin beckons V to follow him to the chairs by the balcony. V walks slowly around the table and they take seats across from each other. The wooden chairs feel hard and cold compared to the bed Jumin was comfortably sleeping in barely a minute ago. He rubs his eyes again in an attempt to rid himself of some of the fogginess.

“What's wrong?”

His friend's fingers are shaking as he loosely laces them together on top of the table. V isn’t usually the nervous type, and Jumin folds his arms when V gives him a smile “V…”

“You still sleep in a tie?” V asks, eyes flickering bemusedly at Jumin’s neck, the wrinkled piece of clothing twisted backwards against his chest.

Jumin tugs his dress sleeve down, realizing it rolled to his elbow when he was in bed, and adjusts the tie. “You're—” he starts, in an attempt to get back on topic.

“It's amazing it hasn't choked you yet,” V continues, avoiding Jumin’s question. “I thought you stopped that after I asked you to in high school.”

Fine, Jumin would allow the distraction for now. “I didn't want to worry you so I took it off when you'd sleep over,” he explains. “I never told you I stopped wearing it, though.” It’s too uncomfortable without it.

“Ah…” V’s smile is gone. He looks down at his lap, massaging the fingers of his left hand with his right.

It's been a long time since Jumin last saw him, but it seems that every time Jumin meets V lately it's after some extended period of not seeing him. His turquoise hair is a little mussed, eyes distant. Jumin didn't notice it before but V is slick with sweat, clothes clinging tightly to his body.

“Did you... run here?” Jumin asks, surprised. V shakes his head.

“My car is parked downstairs…”

Jumin chews his cheek.

“Um,” V mumbles, not looking up. “If it isn't too much trouble…”

Jumin waits, resists the temptation to say it's not too much trouble before hearing what V actually has to say. Considering one of the last calls he took from V was because V wanted to leave his will with Jumin, he's not as sure he can trust V to make completely reasonable requests of him anymore.

“Could I stay here tonight?”

“Why?” Jumin asks, then curses his own tactlessness. “That is—of course you can, but…” He pauses. “You wouldn't ask just for no reason.”

“You're right,” V admits. Jumin stands, holds his hand out palm-up to V. V knows what he wants and drops his car keys in Jumin’s hand, and Jumin strides to the front door and gives them to a security guard, instructing her to pass the keys on to the valet to park V’s car in the garage, where any potential followers wouldn't see it. Then Jumin dismisses the guards from the room so he can speak to V in private.

“Are you safe?” Jumin asks once he's sat again. V shakes his head. Jumin’s lips purse. “And why not?”

“I can't tell you,” V says, predictably. Jumin holds his tongue. “I'm sorry for coming here. I… did my best to make sure I wouldn't be traced, but…”

“It sounds very serious,” Jumin interjects, and V nods with a wince. Jumin feels his chest squeeze at seeing his friend this way, knowing V is likely worrying right now that he’s put Jumin in danger just by being here, instead of worrying about himself despite being the one whose safety is actually in jeopardy.  “Is someone after you? Did you come here because it’s safer?”

“No one’s after me,” V answers before Jumin can ask any more questions. He crosses one leg over the other. “Not yet, anyway. I didn’t come here to protect myself, either.”

Jumin’s brow furrows, becoming increasingly frustrated with V’s cryptic way of speaking. This is a relatively new thing that started when V announced Rika’s life had stopped, and though Jumin knows that V is only letting on as much information as he feels he can in an effort to divulge without potentially hurting Jumin, being kept right at the edge of the dark is still irritating.

“I’m sorry,” V apologizes again, probably sensing Jumin’s impatience. “I wish I could explain more but I can’t. I…”

He falters, his bottom lip trembling slightly as he searches for the words. It’s not such an unfamiliar facial expression for V, someone else might’ve mistook it for being on the verge of tears but Jumin recognizes from many a math class that it’s uncertainty instead. V separates his hands from one another and raises them, palms-up, defeatedly. “I feel so lost. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

 _This_ is new, Jumin’s forehead crinkling with concern at V’s words, coiled in emotion V didn’t usually openly express. Jumin is quiet, unsure of what to say or how to respond. This isn’t his forte and V knows it, wouldn’t want Jumin repeating words he read in some self-help or business communications book, following some step-by-step formula on consolation that’s never come to him naturally. 

“I know you probably want to give me advice but can’t because I’m not telling you anything,” V says, and Jumin inclines his head for a moment before giving V a slight nod. He hadn’t thought of it yet, but V’s right, advice and tangible help are things Jumin can provide with confidence.

“Though,” Jumin counters. “If you need anything in terms of security, I can hire bodyguards, or—“

“No, thank you,” V interrupts him, and Jumin falls silent again. Now probably isn’t the time to mention the eye surgery, either, and at the thought of V’s injury his mind wanders to Rika, and he wonders if V’s current situation could have anything to do with her. He looks at V again and sits up, more alert now than he was when he first answered the door.

“Are you sure you can do everything by yourself?” Jumin asks, and perhaps it’s a hypocritical question because both he and V tend toward pride with few exceptions, in the form of Assistant Kang and Luciel respectively.

“Yes,” V assures, but the facade of confidence is broken when he adds, “I have to.”   

“Why?” Jumin presses, but he already knows why, and indeed, V talks about needing to protect Jumin’s safety and take all the hurt upon himself as he always does. Jumin’s afraid to push it any further, unsure of where the glass of their trust might break if he tries to convince V that there are other options besides suffering alone. Jumin doesn’t even know if there’s anything he _can_ do to help that V hasn’t thought of because V won’t allow him to see all the variables. But then, would V really take a burden so heavy upon himself if he hadn’t already gone through and exhausted every other possible option in which Jumin’s safety is risk-free? No, he wouldn’t. V is smarter than that.

A few long moments of silence pass, in which Jumin considers that he should perhaps offer tea, but everything he has is highly caffeinated and he’s not sure whether V intends on sleeping. Jumin certainly won’t if V doesn’t, and the only other alternative is wine and it seems like it’d be a poor choice with V in this state.

“I didn’t even mean to come here,” V confesses, and Jumin looks up at him again. He’s about to respond but V goes on, “I did it without thinking.”

Jumin feels his heartbeat quicken. They hadn’t seen one another in so long, and now V tells him that he came here by instinct. When they were both young, they’d spent much time together, V showing up at Jumin’s door when his own parents weren’t home, at first never without calling in advance, but after a year or two of barely speaking to anyone but each other they’d become familiar with one another’s schedules. V being at Jumin’s house meant Jumin didn’t have to talk to his father’s girlfriends, many of whom were content to stay home while his father was away at work, despite Jumin’s own discontent with their presence. V had been a safety net, and considering V’s own somewhat neglectful parents, Jumin supposes he was a safety net for his friend as well.

“I’m sorry for worrying you by being here.”

“Please stop apologizing,” Jumin says, and he usually phrases it as a command but the plea escapes him before he can stop it. “It’s fine, you can come here any time for any reason. You don’t have to explain anything.”

V’s eyes glint, then glitter, and then he tips his head low so his frizzy, unkempt bangs make a curtain between his face and Jumin’s gaze, but Jumin is awake enough now to notice the tears falling to V’s lap.

“V?” he rises, and V sharply flicks his wrist to gesture for Jumin to stay put. Jumin hovers above the now-warm seat, stunned by his own physical reaction, but that V was the only person genuine enough to warrant such displays was never a secret. V rubs his eyes behind his hair with a probably dirty sleeve, considering the sweat, and Jumin lowers himself down again, pulls his purple handkerchief from his jacket pocket and reaches it across the table. V sniffs quietly and takes the kerchief from Jumin’s hand, knuckles brushing Jumin’s palm momentarily before disappearing behind his hair. 

Now Jumin falters, worrying the cuff of his left sleeve between his right finger and his thumb. He can hear V taking deep breaths, and Jumin closes his eyes, swallowing down a hint of panic at seeing his friend falling apart. V was always sensitive but Jumin can’t remember an instance of seeing him cry. Even when Rika died V didn’t react with tears, not in front of Jumin anyway. It feels so one-sided, like V’s expressing himself this way to Jumin should amount in Jumin expressing himself rawly back, but it’s easier and probably better in the long run for Jumin to provide a contrast instead, a flatness against the backdrop of V’s spiking pain. Jumin can’t even really identify why it is that his friend is crying.

“I’ve,” the silence and V’s voice break, he swallows and Jumin can imagine the bulge in his throat bob up and down, even though with V’s head angled this way he can’t see it.

“You don’t need to speak if you can’t,” Jumin urges gently and V goes quiet again apart from the occasional audible breath. Watching V fills Jumin with the urge to move toward him, so Jumin opts instead to look out of the large window. It’s a clear night, but lights blending together from different buildings mean few stars are visible. Jumin has no idea what time it is and wonders if all the lights that are on are actually an indication of how many people are awake.

V moves, and Jumin looks back, the handkerchief a neat square folded on the table.

“Thank you,” V murmurs, and Jumin settles on telling V that he’s welcome instead of that he doesn’t need to be thanked. Tonight is showing Jumin how many of his rules that V is excepted from, from the rule to not outwardly show emotion to the rule that all transactions must be two-way and to give always means to receive. Goosebumps prick his skin when he realizes he’s unsure just how much he’d be willing to give. 

“And thank you for always trusting me...”

“Of course,” Jumin says, but V isn’t finished.

“Even though I’m different from how I used to be and I never tell you anything.”

“We’re both different,” Jumin offers. “She was important to us.”

V wipes his eyes with his sleeve once more, then raises his head. Jumin’s gaze flits behind V instead, the sudden eye contact discomforting. He’s not sure V can see him well enough to know he’s not looking directly at him either way. V’s lips unstick and part as though to say something more, but he seems to reconsider it and closes his mouth again. Jumin can’t blame him for his hesitance, considering what Rika had done to him. When he first learned Rika had been the one to blind V, Jumin was angry, but his feelings toward her when she was still alive made it complicated to monolithize his opinion of her, so he conceded to accept his own ambivalence and then bury it so it wouldn’t matter anymore. Rika and V were the only people Jumin had allowed himself to feel for, and that Rika turned out to be something of a mistake was painful, but Jumin had led his whole life up until meeting her permitting himself closeness only to V anyway, so he knew he could be capable of that again. Also, with Elizabeth the 3rd, he didn’t need anyone else. V, and Elizabeth the 3rd… His thoughts turn fond when he thinks of how she’s probably asleep right now in her small bed, relaxing. Perhaps he’d take a photo on his phone once he and V were done talking.

“It’s my fault,” V mumbles, a phrase that's become like a slogan of his in Jumin’s mind from the frequency with which it was repeated. Jumin's about to contest him but V says, “I've… done something. A few things—I can't tell you. And…” 

He trails off. “...And?” Jumin prompts.

V apologizes again, wrist wiping again across his eye. “I don't want to trouble you,” he strains thickly.

“You _don't_ —” 

“I'm so sorry for making you see me like this—”

“ _Stop_.”

A beat passes, then another, and Jumin has been too harsh again like he always is at work, this isn't something he's supposed to worry about with V, but his friend doesn't understand after all these years of knowing each other that for Jumin, being able to help the person he cares about more than anyone else in the world makes him feel like he's worth galaxies, like all this meaningless money and status has no bearing on who he is, at least under V’s gaze, because he's the sum of nature and of personhood and of thought, like the lights that cracked out behind a thick ice wall of suppression were beautiful enough to make ever letting himself feel anything worth it. His fingers rub so hard at the cuff of his sleeve that the friction makes it feel as though they're burning. 

“I can't— don't want to explain anything,” V says quietly. “But.”

Jumin waits, unpinching the sleeve and turning his attention to V’s lips.

“Please,” V whispers. “Stay with me. Tonight. I need you. I'm sorry.” 

Jumin draws a sharp breath.

“That's- that's why I came here,” V stammers. “I don't know why, I guess it's because we've been friends for so long, I just.”

Jumin rises, no longer able to restrain himself, makes his way to V’s side of the table in two steps and pulls his still-seated friend against him. V starts shaking, turning his head against Jumin’s stomach until wet eyes touch his shirt. The shaking doesn't ease, escalating instead into big tremors, and Jumin takes a step back as V slowly lifts himself to his feet and wraps his arms tightly around Jumin, resting his forehead on Jumin’s shoulder and his nose against the other's collarbone. Jumin's left arm grips V tightly to himself around the waist, the other hand weaving into V’s hair.

“I just need you,” V whispers again, and Jumin has been held this tightly before but only ever by women to whom he had to fake respect, people he had been naive enough to let this close as a child until they broke his trust again and again, until he didn't have any left, except for V. Except for his friend who now clung to him as tightly as his dry-by-now clothes had clung to his skin, and Jumin inhaled and yes— V smells like sweat, and he wonders if his friend bothered to even wear any deodorant, and before he can help it he's started laughing and V is still crying but he lifts his head from Jumin's shoulder to rest his forehead against Jumin’s instead, and he asks, “Are you laughing at me?” and Jumin says “Yes, but not for the reason you think,” and he feels V’s eyebrows raise against his own, and it feels so weird he starts laughing again, and V says “Your _breath_ ,” and Jumin remembers he was just asleep and retorts, “Your _sweat_ ,” and now V is laughing too.

There's a pause.

A moment of silence. Their faces are so close that V is a blur and Jumin wonders if this is how V always sees him. V’s blue hair frames Jumin's periphery, and he can't see anything else but V, and in this moment, it's not bad. He can tell that V is wondering what Jumin too is wondering— if this is where they should pull back. If this contact has gone on long enough. But the thought of breaking this— of going back to being two separate people, of losing the warmth of being close to another person, of being _this_ close to another person, a need akin to breathing that Jumin didn't know he had or that he wanted or that he felt so alone and deprived without until now despite his usual disdain for being touched—it _hurts_ , so he stays still. V moves his face away from Jumin's, touching his forehead to his friend's shoulder again.

“Jumin…?” he breathes, the name dancing against Jumin's neck.

“Yes? 

“Am I pathetic?”

The answer is easy. “If you are, then I am too.” 

“Mm.”

V’s grip loosens and Jumin feels a bolt of panic, but V just shuffles to stand a little straighter and tilts his head so the top of it is tucked into the crook of Jumin’s neck. Jumin leans his head a little, his cheekbone resting against V’s hair. It tickles his face. 

Jumin doesn't know what this is, if it's friendship or love or something else. The silence around them is tranquil, the tiredness forming a hum-like rhythm in Jumin's body, stretching through him like a cat reclining. They'll have to break apart soon, if not to shuffle over to Jumin’s bed then in the morning, because Jumin has work and V has the danger that brought him here in the first place to deal with, and Jumin should probably feel guilty for the ounce of gratitude he feels toward it but for now, for as long as V permits him to prolong it, he'll allow himself to pretend that this could be their forever.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by The Run and Go by Twenty One Pilots which is a really great song and I’d recommend it. Credit aside… I’m glad I could write something for these two that at least had a bittersweet ending if not a happy one? I’m not really sure what else to say honestly but I hope you enjoyed reading this—I certainly enjoyed writing it. Thank you for reading!


End file.
